


Least Resistance

by Moonsheen



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath, Gen, Implied Mercy/Genji, Implied Moira/Mercy, Missing Scene, Mission Fall Out, Post-Resistance, angry medic, damage control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:18:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsheen/pseuds/Moonsheen
Summary: Post-Retribution. The Blackwatch team arrives at the Watchpoint after the failed mission. Strike Commander Morrison throws them to the wolves. By which we mean Mercy.





	Least Resistance

**Author's Note:**

> I replayed a lot of Retribution during the Anniversary Event.

The Strike Commander was waiting in the hangar as the dropship doors came down and Reyes knew from his stance that they were in for it. Morrison was frozen over from head to toe. Stiff set of the jaw, hands locked behind his back. There was nothing worse than when Jack went all cold. At least Ana’s anger was plain of her face. She hand her hands on her hips, ready to bawl them all out, but the Strike Commander cut her off.

“Status,” he said, in a clipped voice, like the groan of a frozen lake before it cracked open and swallowed you whole.

Reyes let out a long sigh. 

“Eh, that could’ve gone better,” he admitted. He could hear Jesse wind up behind him, ready to speak his mind, but Morrison raised a his hand. That shut them both up.

“Nevermind,” said Morrison, through his exhale. “Save it for the briefing.”

“You sure?” said Reyes. “They’re going to record that, Jack.”

“We’ve done enough off the books today,” said Morrison, drawing himself up taller. He didn’t spare them a longer look than he had to. He passed Ana, who looked a little torn. She really, really wanted to say her piece, but Morrison headed that off, too. “Captain, let’s prep the room and call the UN. You four, report in to medical. Don’t want to see you until you’re cleared.”

“Seems a waste of time,” said Reyes, “O’Deorain patched us up en route.”

Morrison paused at the far end of the Overwatch symbol on the floor.

“We’re. Following. Protocol.” The ‘now’ went unsaid. “Ziegler’s got a team ready for you. Don’t keep her waiting.”

The Strike Commander and the Captain vanished through the staff doors.

“Outsourcing, now?” muttered Reyes, as the sound of their boots faded up the steps. “Yeah we’re about to get it.”

“Wonder why,” said Jesse, as they hung up their gear and watched the medical response team descend on them. The maintenance crew cleared the way for the medics. The crew not to cast them dark looks at the Blackwatch team as they fled. Either word had gotten around, or the black smoke coming off the dropship told the story well enough. It must have been bad, if the UN was already en route. Only something like this could get them to deploy that fast. Didn’t it figure. Apparently a bombing of an OVW base didn’t cut it anymore. 

“I see no issue. It’s only protocol,” said O’Deorain, whistling as the med team descended on them. They must have been ready since the dropship entered the Watchpoint’s airspace. 

“You serious?” Jesse stared. He held onto his hat before a medic could take it off him.

“I think she’s rather sweet when piqued,” said O’Deorain. It was a bit of an open secret there was nothing O’Deorain enjoyed more than a good fight with Dr. Ziegler. 

Speaking of. The sea of medics parted. Ziegler herself marched down the row, a drone at her shoulder and a fire in her eyes.

“I want full diagnostic scans of all of them,” she said, “Take stock of biotics used. And contact the B-team in the city for an updated list of casualties.”

No ‘please’ -- Oh, she was furious. O’Deorain steepled her fingers in delight.

“Our avenging angel,” she said, with the honeyed tone she knew was waving the red flag in front of the bull. “You needn’t worry. I’ve kept the matter well at hand.”

Ziegler whirled, but she marched past her. O’Deorain’s face was a mix of confusion and disappointment.

“And you, Commander Reyes,” said Ziegler. “I cannot even begin to imagine what you were thinking.”

She set the drone on him.. Reyes glanced at O’Deorain but O’Deorain recovered and nodded, if a bit sullenly. It wouldn’t be an issue.

“I thought it’d be a standard grab,” said Reyes, “And I’m thinking I’ll be saying that a lot in the hearings.”

“Standard, he says,” said Ziegler, she waved her hand at the proceedings, “As though ‘standard’ is any better. You would do well to remember the lives of your people. I thought that mattered to you.”

“You ain’t the only one,” muttered Jesse, still hanging onto his hat, but that earned him a searing look.

“I will not hear that from you,” she said. 

Jesse dropped his hat. “I’m agreeing with you!”   


“Now, maybe. But I will bet you encouraged this right up until it went wrong.” Jesse’s protest died in his throat. Ziegler moved down the row, tapping her holo-screens as she went. “I imagine to you it seemed almost a game. Creeping out like naughty children. As though you are not agents of a world-saving organization. As though  _ some  _ of you weren’t considered heroes.” 

“Heh, that’s a new one,” said Reyes.

“And would you call this a conflict on the level of the Omnic Crisis,” flared Ziegler. Reyes’ eyebrows shot up. He was so stunned he let her continue. “There are plenty who still look to you. And what example have you set. You and the Strike Commander both. And you, Jesse, where were your protests before this whole operation was cleared? O’Deorain has acted...entirely as expected. Her actions hardly bear acknowledging.”

“Do try, my dear,” said O’Deorain.

“And as for the rest--” Ziegler’s eyes fell on the ninja. Her stance changed entirely. “Ah, Genji, how are you?”

The cyborg stood with his back to them. He had permitted the medics to check his vitals, but they hovered around him in some uncertainty, unclear as to the level of his obedience. He looked over his shoulder.

“I have been better,” he said, simply.

“I’ll take care of him,” Ziegler told the medics, then to Shimada: “May I?’

Shimada inclined his head. Ziegler checked the attachments on his neck. She moved her hand gingerly, mindful of how close she was. There were streaks from the laser fire. He smelled strongly of burnt wire.

“Thank you. Do you feel anything pulling?” 

“Mm.”

“Here?”

“A little.”

“Then it must hurt,” said Ziegler, who knew Shimada’s gift for understatement, “I’ll call Torbjorn and his team immediately. I’m sorry you were drawn into this.”

“It was a mission.”

“But not the mission you agreed to.”

“It matters not.”

“It matters to some of us,” said Ziegler. The fire in her eyes faded for a moment, into more of a warm hearth glow. Her hand paused along the cyborg’s face plate. Then mindfully dropped under it. “Please head to the workshop. I’ll meet you there.”

“How come  _ he  _ gets the royal treatment?” sputtered Jesse.

“No favorites at all,” drawled O’Deorain. It wasn’t much of a whisper.

Ziegler’s shoulders pulled tight. She checked Shimada’s core panel, then pulled away. Her heel snapped on the ground.

“The rest of you will head to the medical bay for a  _ proper  _ examination,” said Ziegler, “The Strike Commander has asked that you wait there until called.”

“And she’s back,” said Reyes. “Hey, Doc.”

“What?”   


“Any news on Lacroix?”

“You know I am not allowed to discuss the condition of patients to non-relatives,” snapped Ziegler, but some of that softness she’d reserved for the ninja lingered, because she added: “But it is my understanding he is to participate in the hearing. He is rather insistent he participate.”

“So he’s awake,” said Reyes. “That’s something.” 

“To the medical bay,” said Ziegler, “If you would.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Reyes. He squared his shoulders and marched down the hall, ready for judgment -- whatever that might be. 


End file.
